HI  LDRENS 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00022229269 


■  I  ■ 


;a  / 


i 


UNIVBRSTTtf  ®F 

NORTH  CAROLINA. 

School  of  Library 

Science 


JM 


Stories 


FOR    CHILDREN 


BY 


ELEVEN    SOPHOMORES 


BOSTON 

ROBERTS     BROTHERS 

1875 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874,  by 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Cambridge : 


Press  of  John  Wilson  and  Son. 


The  stories  contained  in  this  volume 
were  written  as  Themes  in  the  spring  of 
1874. 

Cambridge,  Dec.  1,  1874. 


906933 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/storiesforchildrOOelev 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


Harry 7  ,,,,1, 

The  Bear 15    fl.O.tftm^L 

Rose  Bud's  Story 24 

Jamie's  Mice 31  CV//^ 

Santa  Claus's  Deer 45   <£- 

Maggie's  Walk 55  /f-^^^ 

Chicken's  Mistake 69  C.  ^  &w/<^L. 

About  the  Stars 75 

Bertie's  Dream 81 

Bumble's  First  Day  at  Work 95 

Bronco 104 


STORIES    FOR   CHILDREN. 


HARRY. 

"DROWN  curly  hair,  eyes  bright  as 
stars,  mouth  red  as  Thompson 
apples,  cheeks  like  apple  blossoms,  three 
feet  six  inches,  fifty-five  pounds,  seven 
years,  —  that's  Harry. 

And  O  !  what  a  fellow  Harry  is  !  the 
strangest,  most  wonderful  fellow  in  the 
world  1  He's  now  a  dog,  and  rushes  for 
you,  as  though  he  would  eat  you  up; 
he's  a  colt,  and  races,  and  prances,  and 
dances  round  the  house  ;  he's  a  kitten, 


8  Stories  for  Children. 

with  eyes  still  unopened,  and  he  mews, 
mew-ews,  mew-ew-ews  ;  he's  Mrs.  Cat, 
and  the  dog-pen-wiper  is  kitten  ;  to  her 
he  says : — 

"  O  kitten,  O  kitten,  you  naughty  kitten, 
You've  lost  your  mitten  ; 
Then,  you  shall  have  no  pie." 

"  Mew  —  mew  —  mew,"  says  the  cloth 
kitten. 

"  O  kitten,  O  kitten,  you  good  little  kitten, 
You've  found  your  mitten  ; 
Then,  you  shall  have  some  pie." 

11  Purr  —  purr  —  purr,"  says  the  cloth 
kitten. 

Harry's  a  man,  too,  and  keeps  store  : 
he  drives  a  thriving  trade  in  wood 
peanuts,  wood  candy,  paper  dolls,  dirt 
pies,  and  dirt  puddings.     Pins  are  his 


Harry.  9 

money.  A  handsome  paper  doll  brings 
two  pins ;  a  pound  of  candy,  five  ;  a 
pint  of  peanuts,  four ;  one  nice  dirt  pie, 
three  ;  puddings  are  cheap,  and  bring 
only  one  pin.  You'd  think  he  did  the 
biggest  business  in  town ;  he  struts 
around,  talks  about  his  big  ships,  rattles 
his  coppers,  and  tries,  by  extraordinary 
methods,  to  get  both  hands  into  his  one 
pocket. 

Often  Harry  turns  coachman.  Tom, 
Dick,  Fred,  and  Frank,  are  his  horses. 
Tom  and  Dick  make  one  span ;  Fred 
and  Frank,  the  other  :  Harry,  of  course, 
drives.  "  Kl !  kl !  kl !  "  says  the  driv- 
er ;  snap  goes  the  whip,  and  away  go 
they   all.      The   butcher's   boy   in    his 


io  Stories  for  Children. 

nightgown  frightens  them,  and  they 
kick.  "  Whoa  —  whoa  —  whoa,"  cries 
the  driver.  They  meet  a  wagon,  and 
such  a  smash-up  !  A  woman  with  a 
basket  of  eggs,  in  fear  for  them, 
screams,  "  Oh  !  oh  !  oh !  "  A  train  of 
cars  frightens  the  horses,  and  they  come 
home  on  a  gallop,  steaming  and  pant- 
ing. 

Yes, —  many  are  Harry's  trades. 
He's  a  school-teacher,  and  shakes  his 
little  scholars  quite  out  of  their  wits  : 
he's  a  minister,  and  preaches,  to  his 
heart's  content :  he's  a  dentist,  and  op- 
erates upon  the  cat's  teeth. 

When  he  has  a  mind  to,  Harry  can 
fight.     He   can   "  lick "  John   Nichols, 


Harry.  1 1 

Sam  Stoddard,  and  all  the  other  little 
boys  on  the  street.  By  the  by,  Harry 
and  Sam  had  quite  a  little  tussle  the 
other  day.     It  happened  thus  :  — 

A  poor  girl,  seven  or  eight  years  old, 
came  clattering  along  in  a  pair  of  old, 
big  shoes.     Sam  cried  out,  — 

"  Halloo,  big-footed  Polly  !  how  do 
you  do?    how's  your  mother?" 

The  little  girl  began  to  cry ;  but 
Sam  kept  on. 

"  You  stop  that,"  said  Harry. 

"  Shan't,  'less  I  want  to  ;  none  your 
business,"  retorted  Sam. 

"  It  is  some  my  business  :  you  stop 

it. 

"  I  shan't.   Halloo,  big- footed  Polly  !  " 


12  Stories  for  Children. 

Then  Harry  struck  Sam,  and  Sam 
struck  back ;  then  they  both  struck,  and 
kept  striking,  till  Sam  scampered  home 
crying,  — 

"  I'll  tell  my  father  of  you,  and  he'll 
lick  you,  he  will,  you  old  Harry." 

Harry  came  home  with  a  bleeding 
nose,  and  with  sore  eyes,  but  without  a 
tear  in  them  :  he  merely  said,  — 

"Well;  I've  fixed  that  Sam  Stod- 
dard." 

Harry  is  a  musical  man,  and  gives 
out-door  concerts  for  his  own  amuse- 
ment, and  for  that  of  the  neighors.  His 
instrument  is  a  little  fiddle,  and,  while 
he  plays,  he  sings, — 


Harry.  13 

"  Little  Bo-peep 
Has  lost  her  sheep, 
And  can't  tell  where  to  find  them : 

Leave  them  alone, 

And  they'll  come  home, 
Wagging  their  tails  behind  them, 
Wagging  their  tails  behind  them." 

He  also  sings  "  Ding,  Dong,  Bell," 
and  the  adventures  of  Jack  and  Jill.  He 
likes  to  sing  and  play,  and  is  now  beg- 
ging his  father  for  a  little  hand-organ, 
promising  that  he  will  be  just  as  good 
a  boy  as  can  be,  and  will  play  all  the 
time. 

Next  door  to  Harry  lives  little  Susie 
Ray.  Susie  is  a  very  pretty  girl,  Harry 
thinks,  and  he  is  fond  of  her,  —  very 
fond  of  her.  Why,  the  little  creatures 
have  been  married  a  dozen  times  !  They 


14  Stories  for  Children. 

keep  house,  eat,  drink,  sleep  together, 
and  tend  the  baby  in  a  box  in  the  back- 
yard. When  the  baby  is  good,  Harry 
tends  her ;  but,  as  soon  as  she  begins 
to  cry,  Harry  hands  her  to  his  faithful 
Susie,  saying,  "  My  dear,  the  poor  thing 
wants  you  now." 

This  is  Harry, —  Harry,  the  boy;  but 
the  boy  with  ever  so  much  of  the  man 
in  him  ;  and  sometime  he's  going  to  be 
a  man,  he  says. 

This  is  Harry  ;  and  these  are  stories 
such  as  Harry  likes. 


THE     BEAR. 


A  BE  and  Ulysses  had  no  business  to 
go  up  the  mountain  that  summer 
afternoon ;  but  they  seized  the  oppor- 
tunity, while  their  father  and  mother 
were  in  Manchester  on  a  visit,  to  do 
what  they  had  long  wanted  to  do,  —  to 
go  trout-fishing.  The  boys  lived  half- 
way up  one  of  the  Green  Mountains, 
and  three  miles  from  the  village  in 
the  valley.  Their  father,  Mr.  Waite, 
was  a  farmer,  and  he  had  no  children 
except  Abe  and  Ulysses,  who  were 
twins. 


1 6  Stories  for  Children. 

Away  up  on  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tain was  a  lake,  out  of  which  ran  the 
brook  that  flowed  by  Mr.  Waite's 
house,  and  finally  joined  with  several 
brooks  from  the  mountain  across  the 
valley  to  form  Otter  Creek.  On  this 
brook  stood  a  saw-mill,  where  every 
autumn  Mr.  Waite  sawed  the  logs  he 
had  cut  on  the  mountain  the  winter 
before. 

Twenty  or  thirty  years  ago,  the 
mountain  was  covered  with  large  trees; 
and  the  man  who  built  the  saw-mill 
built,  at  the  same  time,  out  of  great 
logs,  a  gutter,  or  "  shoot,"  in  which  to 
send  his  timber  down  from  the  top  of 
the  mountain  to  the  mill.     The  shoot 


The  Bear.  17 

was  of  the  shape  of  a  wine  butt,  cut 
open  lengthwise ;  it  was  two  miles 
long,  and  so  steep  that  it  didn't  take  a 
log  more  than  five  minutes  to  go  down. 
Think  of  that,  boys  ! 

Abe  and  Ulysses,  as  I  told  you, 
had  no  business  to  go  up  the  moun- 
tain ;  but  near  the  house  the  brook  had 
been  pretty  well  fished,  and  they  wanted 
to  follow  it  up,  to  stay  all  night  at  the 
log-house  that  had  been  built  for  the 
wood-cutters,  and,  in  the  morning,  to 
fish  around  the  edge  of  the  pond. 

They  told  Patrick,  the  hired  man, 
where  they  were  going ;  and,  taking 
some  of  mother's  "  goodies "  from  the 
pantry,  they  started  up  the  brook.     Af- 


1 8  Stories  for  Children. 

ter  they  had  gone  a  little  way,  Abe 
called  out, — 

"  Lyss,  suppose  we  should  meet  that 
bear  that  Ben  Bennett  saw  up  here,  last 
winter?" 

"  Ho,"  said  Lyss,  "  I  don't  believe 
that  he  saw  any  bear ;  besides,  if  we 
should  meet  one,  I  know  what  I'd  do." 

"  What  ?  "  said  Abe. 

"  Why,  stand  still ;  and,  when  .  he 
came  near,  and  opened  his  mouth  to 
bite,  I'd  push  the  butt-end  of  my  fish- 
pole  down  his  throat,  and  that  would 
kill  him :  and  then,  if  he  didn't  die 
soon  enough,  I'd  cut  his  throat  with 
my  jack-knife." 

"  I  should  be  scared,"  said  Abe ;    "  I 


The  Bear.  19 

hope  we  shan't  see  him.  I  should  run, 
if  he  came  after  me." 

The  boys  were  now  at  the  bottom  of 
the  shoot,  and,  since  it  was  easier  to 
fish  standing  in  it,  they  got  in,  and 
began  to  walk  up.  They  carried  their 
basket  of  food  by  turns  ;  they  fished  in 
every  little  pool,  for  a  few  minutes  ;  and 
they  had  caught  two  large  strings  of 
trout,  before  they  reached  the  cabin. 

The  boys  put  their  fish  into  the 
brook  to  keep  fresh,  and  then  gathered 
some  leaves  and  twigs  for  a  fire.  Be- 
fore long  a  fire  was  burning  brightly, 
and  five  or  six  trout  were  roasting  on 
forked  sticks  over  it.  With  these  as  a 
relish,  they  ate  their  bread  and  butter 


20  Stories  for  Children. 

on  the  step  of  the  cabin  door,  and 
planned  how  to  spend  the  money  they 
knew  they  could  get  for  the  trout  from 
the  city  boarders  in  the  village. 

After  supper  they  put  out  their  fire, 
and  climbed  up  the  ladder  into  the 
loft,  where  the  wood-cutters  slept  in 
winter.  After  brushing  a  clean  place 
on  the  floor,  they  carried  up  a  lot  of 
grass  to  lie  upon ;  then  they  went 
down  and  shut  the  door,  and  put  a 
chopping-block  against  it,  —  "  to  keep 
out  the  bear,"  Abe  said.  This  done, 
they  went  upstairs  to  bed,  and,  tired 
out  with  their  walk,  were  soon  asleep. 

Next  morning,  the  boys  woke  up 
early.  After  eating  their  breakfast,  they 


The  Bear.  21 

took  their  fish  out  of  the  brook,  and 
started  for  the  lake,  which  could  not, 
they  knew,  be  far  off.  As  they  went, 
they  began  to  think  of  what  Ben  Ben- 
nett had  told  them,  —  how,  when  Ben 
was  going  up  the  brook  alone,  the  bear 
suddenly  came  out  of  a  thicket  upon 
him,  and  chased  him  so  far  that  he  ran 
all  the  way  down  the  mountain,  in  great 
fright,  vowing  never  to  go  up  again 
alone. 

"  Shouldn't  you  really  be  afraid,"  said 
Abe,  "if  he  should  jump  at  us  out  of 
that  bush  ?" 

"  Poh  !  no  !  "  answered  Lyss.  "  It 
never  seemed  to  me  that  David  was  so 
very  brave,  because  he  killed  the  lion 
and  the  bear." 


22  Stories  for  Children. 

Lyss,  nevertheless,  looked,  as  he  said 
this,  pretty  hard  at  the  bush ;  and  jumped 
when,  a  minute  later,  a  partridge  that 
they  had  started  up  flew  off  with  a  loud 
whirr.     All  at  once,  Abe  called  out,  — 

"  There  he  is  !  " 

"  Where  ?  "  said  Lyss,  quickly. 

"  Over  there  !  " 

Sure  enough,  out  of  the  bushes, 
something,  some  animal,  was  coming 
slowly  towards  them.  Lyss  didn't  wait 
to  make  a  closer  acquaintance,  but 
turned  around,  and  ran,  as  fast  as  he 
could,  towards  the  shoot,  tumbling 
down,  and  losing  his  fish,  on  the  way. 

As  Abe  started  to  follow  his  brother, 
he  heard  a  great  crackling  of  bushes 
behind  ;  the  animal  was  following  him, 


The  Bear.  23 

at  a  run.  The  noise  came  nearer  and 
nearer,  in  spite  of  all  Abe's  efforts  to 
escape.  He  looked  around  and  saw  — 
Farmer  Benson's  calf,  which  had  strayed 
away,  and,  glad  to  see  a  human  being 
again,  was  galloping  down  the  path. 

Abe  stopped,  picked  up  Lyss's  fish, 
and,  driving  the  calf  before  him,  went 
through  the  woods  home,  where  he 
found  his  father  and  Patrick  just  start- 
ing in  search  of  him. 

Lyss  was  heartily  ashamed  of  his 
cowardice  ;  and,  when  he  saw  Mr.  Ben- 
son pay  Abe  half  a  dollar  for  bringing 
the  calf  home,  he  determined  that  he 
would  try  to  be  a  little  more  courageous 
the  next  time  he  saw  a  bear. 


ROSE   BUD'S   STORY. 


"/^OOD-MORNING,  Rose  Bud." 

"  Good-morning,  Robin,"  an- 
swered Rose  Bud,  with  a  pretty  bow  to 
Robin,  as  he  lighted  upon  the  rose- 
bush. 

"  What  a  pity  it  is,"  said  Robin,  "  that 
you  have  to  stay  in  this  garden  all  the 
time,  and  can  never  see  the  lakes,  the 
tall  pines,  and  the  oaks,  as  I  do." 

"  Oh !  "  replied  Rose  Bud,  "  I  have 
seen  more  things,  perhaps,  than  you 
have.  I  have  been  all  over  the  world, 
and   have   lived   in  very  many  places. 


Rose  Bud's  Story.  25 

Once  I  was  an  acorn,  and  lived  in  the 
woods." 

"  Why,  Rose  Bud  !  Do  you  mean 
to  say  that  you  were  once  an  acorn  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  if  you  will  listen,  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  it. 

"  When  I  was  an  acorn,  I  remember 
how  I  hid  under  the  leaves  upon  the 
ground,  and  how  glad  I  was  to  escape 
the  notice  of  boys  who  were  hunting 
after  acorns.  Getting  tired  of  hiding, 
and  thinking  that  I  should  like  to  be 
an  oak-tree,  I  put  forth  little  roots,  be- 
gan to  grow,  and  kept  on  growing  un- 
til I  became  a  great,  tall  oak. 

"  One  day,  in  winter,  some  men  came 
into   the    woods ;    and    one   of    them, 


26  Stories  for  Children. 

pointing  to  me,  exclaimed :  '  What 
splendid  ship-timber  that  oak  will 
make  !  Let  us  cut  it  down,  and  sell  it 
to  a  ship-builder.' 

"  So,  with  their  axes,  they  cut  me 
down,  trimmed  my  branches,  carried 
me  to  a  ship-yard,  and  sold  me.  The 
ship-carpenters  kept  cutting  and  hew- 
ing me  until  I  became  a  strong  beam, 
and  was  put  into  the  ship  they  were 
building.  For  many  years  I  was  a 
beam  in  that  ship.  I  went  all  over  the 
world,  and  saw  many  wonderful  things. 

"  One  dark  night  there  came  a  terri- 
ble storm.  The  rain  poured,  the  waves 
roared,  the  wind  blew,  and  the  ship 
rocked  so  fearfully  that  even  the  sailors 


Rose  Bud's  Story.  27 

were  frightened  ;  but  the  captain  told 
them  that  the  ship  was  made  of  strong 
timber,  and  that  there  was  no  danger, 
unless  she  struck  a  rock.  Soon  after 
he  said  this,  the  ship  did  strike  a  rock, 
and  was  completely  wrecked.  I,  with 
the  other  beams,  floated  upon  the  water; 
but  the  poor  sailors,  not  being  able  to 
float,  were  all  drowned  except  one,  who 
clung  to  me,  knowing  that  so  large  a 
beam  would  bear  him  up,  and  that  the 
waves  would  carry  us  both  safely  to  the 
shore,  not  far  distant.  When  we  reached 
the  shore,  he  went  away,  very  thankful 
to  have  been  saved. 

"  The  next  day  a  farmer,  coming 
down  to  the  shore,  espied  me,  and 
said,  — 


28  Stories  for  Children. 

" '  Here  is  a  stick  of  timber  that  has 
been  washed  ashore.  It  is  just  what  I 
want  for  fire-wood.' 

"  Putting  me  in  his  wagon,  he  carried 
me  to  his  house  in  the  country.  There 
he  sawed  me,  and  split  me  into  small 
sticks,  and  put  me  into  the  fire  ;  but  I 
was  not  afraid,  for  I  knew  that  I  should 
not  die,  but  should  only  be  changed 
into  something  else,  just  as  I  was 
changed  from  an  acorn  into  an  oak- 
tree.  I  was  right,  for  I  was  changed 
into  ashes. 

"  While  in  the  form  of  ashes,  I  heard 
the  lady  of  the  house  say  that  her  rose- 
bush did  not  grow  at  all ;  that  there 
were  no  buds  on  it ;  that  it  must  be 


Rose  Bud's  Story.  29 

hungry,  and  that  she  must  give  it 
something  to  eat.  Then  I  heard  her 
say  that  ashes  were  good  food  for  the 
rose-bush,  and  that  she  would  give  it 
some  ashes  to  eat,  so  that  it  might 
grow  faster,  and  make  her  some  rose- 
buds. 

"Then  she  took  me  from  the  stove, 
and,  carrying  me  into  the  garden,  put 
me  in  the  ground  under  this  rose-bush. 
Pretty  soon,  the  roots  of  the  rose-bush 
found  me,  and  pulled  me  up  into  the 
bush,  telling  me  not  to  be  afraid,  as 
they  would  not  kill  me,  but  would  only 
change  me  into  a  beautiful  rose-bud. 

"  So  you  see,  dear  Robin,  that  I  was 
first  an  acorn,  then  an  oak,  then  ashes, 


30  Stories  for  Children. 

and  have  just  been  changed  into  the 
rose-bud  you  see.  Just  as  you  were 
once  a  little  egg,  and  were  changed 
into  a  robin.  It  is  exactly  the  same 
with  every  thing,  Robin  :  not  a  single 
thing  is  destroyed,  or  los,t ;  not  one  that 
is  not  changed  into  another  thing." 

Robin,  who  had  been  listening  all 
this  time  to  the  story  of  Rose  Bud, 
was  greatly  delighted  to  learn  so  much  ; 
and,  after  singing  Rose  Bud  a  song, 
said  good-by  to  her  and  flew  away,  a 
wiser,  if  not  a  better,  bird. 


JAMIE'S    MICE. 


TAMIE  lived  in  a  crowded  street  in 

the  city  of  S .     He  had  never 

been  into  the  country  for  any  length  of 
time,  until  he  reached  his  eighth  year. 
In  that  year  he  made  a  long  visit  at 
the  house  of  his  uncle  Seth.  There 
he  became  very  fond  of  the  pleasant 
country  scenes  that  met  his  eye,,; — the 
green  fields,  the  woods,  and  the  pretty 
brooks  that  ran  among  the  hills  and 
through  the  valleys  of  the  farm ; 
but  he  was  most  delighted  with  the 
*  live-stock,"   as   the    farmers   call   the 


32  Stories  for  Children. 

horses,  cattle,  and  other  animals  that 
they  raise.  He  liked  nothing  better 
than  to  ride  to  mill  on  horseback,  with 
his  cousin  Jonas  ;  to  help  Harry,  the 
hired  man,  drive  the  oxen  ;  or  to  take  a 
basin  of  corn,  and  scatter  it  for  the  hens 
and  chickens,  who  used  to  come  running 
up  from  every  direction,  cackling,  and 
chattering,  and  making  such  a  racket 
that  you  would  think  that  every  one 
was  scolding,  because  the  others  were 
eating  so  much  as  not  to  leave  him 
enough. 

"  I  wish  I  had  some  animal  for  a 
pet,"  said  Jamie  to  his  mother,  not  long 
after  his  return  from  the  farm. 

"  What  should  you  like  ?  "  asked  his 


yamies  Mice.  33 

mother,  who  was  glad  to  please  her 
children  in  all  reasonable  requests. 

"  I  like  a  kitten  best ;  but  you  won't 
let  me  have  one." 

"  No,"  said  she  ;  "  your  kittens  always 
have  fits,  or  run  away,  or  make  me  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  by  getting  into 
the  pantry  and  stealing  all  they  can  lay 
their  paws  upon  ;  but  if  you  can  think 
of  a  pet  that  will  not  make  trouble,  and 
that  you  can  take  care  of  easily,  I'll  let 
you  have  it,  perhaps." 

Nothing  more  was  said  then :  but 
Jamie  thought,  and  thought,  all  day; 
and,  as  he  lay  in  bed  that  night,  he 
almost  wished  that  he  could  always 
live  on  a  farm,  so  as  to  have  all  the 


34  Stories  for  Children. 

pets  he  wanted.  Just  as  he  was  drop- 
ping asleep,  he  heard  a  noise  in  the 
wall. 

"  That's  it,"  said  Jamie,  aloud  to  him- 
self. "  I'll  have  some  mice.  I'll  get  a 
cage  with  the  wires  so  close  together 
that  they  can't  get  out,  if  they  try  ever 
so  hard." 

So  he  settled  the  matter  in  his  mind  ; 
and,  after  deciding  to  set  a  trap  the  very 
next  morning,  closed  his  eyes,  and  went 
to  sleep. 

Next  morning  Jamie  was  up  with  the 
sun,  and  lost  no  time  in  telling  his  plan 
to  his  mother,  whose  consent  was  readily 
given.  The  next  thing  was  to  get  a 
trap ;  and  Jamie  remembered  that  he 


yamies  Mice.  35 

had  seen  one  on  a  high  shelf  in  the 
attic  one  day  when  he  was  helping  his 
father  hunt  up  some  papers. 

Upstairs  he  started,  and  soon  came 
down,  trap  in  hand.  Quickly  baiting 
it  with  toasted  cheese,  he  set  it  in  the 
wood-shed,  where  the  mice  often  ran 
about. 

When  Jamie  paid  his  last  visit  to 
the  trap,  before  going  to  bed,  he  found 
the  cheese  still  untouched.  Either  the 
mice  suspected  danger,  or  they  had 
enough  food  in  their  nests  for  the  rest 
of  the  day. 

The  next  morning  early,  he  went,  in 
hot  haste,  to  the  wood-shed,  and, — 
"  Hurrah !  I've  caught  em,"  he  shouted. 


2,6  Stories  for  Children. 

Sure  enough,  in  the  trap  were  two 
mice,  —  cunning  little  fellows,  with  soft, 
brown  coats  of  fur,  and  bright,  black 
eyes.  When  they  saw  Jamie,  they  ran 
into  some  little  cubby-holes  in  the  trap, 
and  hid  all  of  themselves  but  their 
backs  and  tails,- — thinking,  perhaps, 
after  the  fashion  of  ostriches,  that,  since 
they  could'nt  see  Jamie,  Jamie  could'nt 
see  them. 

"See,  father!  I've  caught  two  mice, 
and  they're  just  as  pretty  as  can  be," 
exclaimed  Jamie,  as  he  rushed  into  the 
kitchen,  where  his  father  was  building 
a  fire  for  breakfast. 

"  So  you  have,"  said  his  father,  look- 
ing into  the  trap.     "  They  will   make 


y amies  Mice.  37 

very  pretty  pets ;  and  I'll  give  you  some 
money  to  buy  them  a  cage.  I  am  will- 
ing you  should  keep  them,  —  but  on 
one  condition,  —  you  must  take  good 
care  of  them.  Remember  that  they 
can  feel  pain  just  as  you  can,  and  that 
every  day  they  will  be  hungry,  just  as 
you  are.  When  you  eat  your  own 
dinner,  be  sure  that  they  don't  go 
hungry ;  and  never  be  too  sleepy  to 
give  them  their  supper." 

So  Mr.  Smith  gave  his  son  money 
enough  to  buy  a  good  mouse-cage  ;  for, 
though  he  was  afraid  that  the  mice 
might  do  mischief,  he  wished  Jamie, 
who  would  one  day  be  a  man,  and,  per- 
haps, own  horses  and  cattle,  to  learn, 


38  Stories  for  Children. 

while    he   was   young,  to  take  care  of 
animals,  and  be  kind  to  them. 

After  breakfast,  Jamie  lost  no  time 
in  going  to  a  hardware  store  in  the 
neighborhood.  There  he  found  such  a 
cage  as  he  wanted.  It  was  made  of 
tin,  and  painted  green.  Attached  to 
one  side  was  a  small  wheel,  which  was 
so  large,  and  whirled  so  easily,  that  one 
mouse  could  keep  it  moving. 

When  the  mice  had  been  taken  from 
the  trap  and  put  into  the  cage,  they  felt 
less  at  home  than  before,  and  ran  from 
one  side  of  the  cage  to  another,  in 
search  of  a  place  to  get  out.  Soon 
one  of  them  found  his  way  into  the 
wheel,    and,  jumping   up   against    the 


y amies  Mice.  39 

side,  set  it  going.  Pleased  with  this 
kind  of  exercise,  or  thinking  that,  if  he 
kept  moving  long  enough,  he  should 
get  out,  the  little  fellow,  to  Jamie's 
great  delight,  worked  for  a  long  time 
in  his  tread-mill. 

When  Jamie  became  tired  of  watch- 
ing him,  he  put  some  crumbs  in  the 
trap,  and  set  it  away  in  a  quiet  place 
where  the  mice  could  take  a  nap ;  for 
mice,  like  rats,  bats,  and  owls,  sleep 
during  the  day,  and  spend  the  night  in 
running  about  and  hunting  for  food. 

Jamie  set  his  trap  again  that  evening, 
and  the  next.  At  last,  when  he  had 
six  mice  in  the  cage,  he  put  the  trap 
away,  thinking  that  six  were  as  many 


40  Stories  for  Children. 

as  the  cage  could  well  hold ;  but  the 
number  was  increased,  some  weeks 
afterwards,  in  a  way  that  he  did  not 
expect. 

On  going  to  the  cage,  one  morning, 
what  was  his  surprise  to  find,  in  a  warm 
corner  of  the  nest,  four  tiny  mice ! 
Queer  little  things  they  were  !  Their 
bodies  were  as  bald  and  white  as  a 
baby's  head  :  they  hadn't  any  eyes  at 
all ;  but  underneath  the  skin  of  each 
head  were  two  little  black  spots,  and 
Jamie's  mother  said  that  these  would 
some  day  be  a  pair  of  as  good  eyes 
as  ever  kept  sharp  lookout  for  Pussy. 
Jamie  was,  of  course,  highly  pleased, 
and  took  care  that  the  nest  should  be 


y amies  Mice.  41 

warmly  lined  with  cotton,  for  the  bene- 
fit of  these  new  members  of  the  family. 

In  time,  the  mice  became  quite  tame, 
and  would  eat  bread  from  Jamie's  fin- 
gers. They  seemed  to  be  fond  of  mu- 
sic, for  they  listened  while  he  played  on 
the  piano.  The  young  mice  grew  up, 
became  as  large  as  the  old  ones,  and 
looked  so  much  like  them  that  nobody 
but  Jamie  could  tell  them  apart. 

It  was  now  the  last  of  June,  and  Jamie 
was  going,  in  July,  on  a  long  journey 
with  his  father  and  mother  and  his  sis- 
ter Hattie.  What  was  to  be  done  with 
the  mice?  Though  unwilling  to  part 
with  them,  Jamie,  at  last,  made  up  his 
mind  to  give  them  to  one  of  his  play- 


42  Stories  for  Children. 

mates  to  keep  ;  but  his  father  would 
not  consent  to  this,  and  hit  upon  another 
plan.  Jamie,  who  had  long  wanted 
to  celebrate  the  Fourth  of  July  with 
fireworks,  as  the  big  boys  did,  now 
seemed  old  enough  to  be  trusted  with 
these  dangerous  playthings :  so  his 
father,  after  telling  him  how  the  noble 
men  who  lived  in  this  country  years 
ago  became  free  on  Independence  Day, 
promised  that  if  Jamie  would,  on  the 
Fourth  that  was  coming,  open  the 
mouse-cage  and  let  the  little  prisoners 
go,  he  should  have  several  bunches  of 
fire-crackers,  and  two  boxes  of  torpe- 
does. 

Jamie  was  sorry  to  give  up  his  pets ; 


y amies  Mice.  43 

but,  having  a  great  desire  for  the  fire- 
works, he  agreed  to  his  father's  plan. 

The  Fourth  of  July  came ;  and  Jamie, 
after  making  a  farewell  speech  to  the 
mice, —  for  he  loved  them  like  old 
friends,  —  took  the  cage  into  the  middle 
of  the  back-yard,  and  opened  the  door. 
At  first,  the  little  fellows  didn't  know 
what  to  make  of  it.  They  went  to  the 
door,  peeped  out,  and  then  ran  back,  as 
if  afraid  of  the  new  and  strange  objects 
they  saw  outside.  At  length,  an  old 
one  had  the  courage  to  run  out  a  little 
way ;  and,  seeming  to  relish  his  newly 
found  liberty,  started  for  a  fence  just 
outside  the  gate,  —  an  example  which 
the  others  were  not  long  in  following. 


44  Stories  for  Children. 

When  all  were  gone,  Jamie  picked 
up  his  cage  and  put  it  away.  Then  he 
began  to  burn  his  fire-crackers  and  to 
snap  his  torpedoes,  all  the  more  merrily 
because  he  believed  that  his  mice  must 
be  happier  than  they  were  in  the  cage. 


SANTA  CLAUS'   DEER. 

By  James  Crow,  Esq. 


"  I'm  a  crow,  as  black  as  any  crow  can  be ; 
I  live  on  an  island  in  the  deep,  blue  sea." 

"  TTOW  the  wind  blows,  mother ! " 
said  bright-eyed  Susie.  "  Santa 
Claus  can't  come  to-night,  can  he  ?  " 

"He  comes  wherever  there  is  a  warm 
hearth  and  a  merry  heart.  Kiss  me 
good-night  now,  darling,  and  go  to 
bed." 

"  Can't  I  wait  for  Ralph  and  father  ? 
There,  I  hear  them  coming." 

"  I    pity   the   poor   sheep,   this    cold 


46  Stories  for  Children. 

night,"  said  the  father,  as  he  came  in, 
shaking  the  snow  from  his  feet.  The 
father  of  this  happy  family,  let  me  tell 
you,  kept  ever  so  many  sheep  on  the 
island.     He  was  called  a  wool-grower. 

"  Susie,"  said  Ralph,  "  I  thought  you 
were  going  to  bed  so  early." 

"  I  want  you  to  go,  too ;  for  Santa 
Claus  never  comes  while  little  children 
are  awake.  Come ;  "  and  she  gave  her 
brother  a  tug. 

"  There's  Jim  Crow,"  said  Ralph ; 
"  Santa  Claus  brought  him  to  me  last 
year ;  I  wonder  what  he  will  bring  me 
this  time.  You  won't  look,  if  you  stay 
here,  will  you,  Jim?" 

"  Caw  !  Caw ! "  cried  I. 


Santa  Claus   Deer.  47 

"  He  says  '  I  won't,'  "  said  Susie. 

After  kissing  their  father  and  mother, 
Ralph  and  Susie  trotted  off  to  bed. 

"This  will  be  a  poor  Christmas,  I 
fear,  for  the  children,"  said  the  father. 

"  Let  us  hope  for  the  best,  and  try  to 
make  the  best  of  it,"  replied  the  mother, 
cheerfully. 

Then  followed  a  long  conversation  in 
an  undertone,  so  low  that  I  could  not 
make  out  any  thing  that  was  said,  ex- 
cept, —  "  Ralph,"  "  Susie,"  "  pumpkin- 
pies,"  "  doughnuts." 

The  wind  continued  to  blow  furi- 
ously :  it  howled,  it  barked,  it  whistled, 
it  made  all  sorts  of  queer  noises.  How 
glad  I  was  that  I  had  a  roof  over  my 


48  Stories  for  Children. 

head,  and  was  so  much  better  off  than 
other  crows ! 

"  So  Santa  Claus  brought  me,"  I  said 
to  myself.  "  I  cannot  imagine  what  sort 
of  a  man  he  is  ;  but  I  guess,  from  what 
these  two  'chickabiddies,'  Ralph  and 
Susie,  have  been  saying  for  the  last 
three  weeks,  that  he's  a  great,  big,  fat 
fellow,  as  broad  as  he  is  long,  all  cov- 
ered with  fur,  —  with  tiny  eyes,  just 
big  enough  to  see  all  good  boys  and 
girls,  but  too  small  to  see  the  bad  ones. 
I  should  like  to  get  a  look  at  him." 

In  such  thoughts  I  forgot  myself,  till 
I  was  aroused  by  the  words:  "Hush! 
Patty  dear,  don't  make  such  a  noise ; 
you  will  wake  up  the  children." 


Santa  Claus  Deer.  49 

All  was  still  as  a  mouse. 

"  This  must  be  Santa  Claus  and  his 
deer,  Patty,"  I  thought.  I  was  tempted 
to  open  my  eyes ;  but  I  had  said  that  I 
should  not  look,  and  even  a  crow  must 
keep  his  promise. 

Presently,  something  went  "  Baa ! 
Baa ! "  very  much  like  a  real  sheep ; 
and  then  something  went  "  Bow-wow !  " 
very  much  like  a  dog. 

"  Be  still,"  commanded  Santa  Claus  ; 
"  it  is  not  time  to  make  a  noise  yet." 

Such  a  hard  time  as  Santa  Claus  had 
in  trying  to  stop  that  "  Baa !  Baa  ! "  and 
that  "  Bow-wow ! "  I  was  almost  obliged 
by  fright  to  cry  out :  but  Patty,  the  deer, 
laughed.     It  was  a  sweeter  laugh  than 


50  Stories  for  Children. 

that  of  Santa  Claus.  I  never  heard  a 
deer  laugh  before ;  but  Santa  Claus' 
deer  is  a  wonderful  creature,  in  more 
ways  than  one.  Sometimes  it  mounts 
the  roof  of  a  house,  and  rests  there, 
while  Santa  Claus  goes  down  the  chim- 
ney. How  it  ever  got  over  the  rough 
sea  to  the  lonely  place  where  we  lived 
was  always  a  puzzle  to  me ;  but  Santa 
Claus  could  do  any  thing,  Susie  said. 

"Come,  Patty,  is  there  any  thing 
more?"  said  Santa  Claus. 

"  One  more  doughnut  in  this  stock- 
ing," said  Patty,  in  a  sweet  voice.  Yes, 
Santa  Claus'  deer  talked. 

11  That's  enough,"  said  its  master,  and 
away  they  went. 


Santa  Claus  Deer.  51 

I  could  resist  no  longer.  I  opened 
my  eyes  just  in  time  to  see  —  what  do 
you  suppose?  —  the  tail  of  Santa  Claus' 
deer. 

A  little  light  was  beginning  to  peep 
through  the  window,  when  I  heard  a 
noise  overhead. 

"  Get  up,  Ralph,"  cried  a  voice,  which 
I  knew  to  be  Susie's.  "  It's  daylight, 
at  last.  I've  been  watching  for  it  ever 
so  long.  I  heard  Santa  Claus  down- 
stairs." 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  I 
could  just  hear  Ralph  say. 

"  Merry  Christmas !  It's  time  to  get 
up,"  was  the  answer. 

To  describe  what  followed  is  almost 


52  Stories  for  Children. 

impossible  for  a  matter-of-fact  crow. 
The  children,  coming  into  the  room, 
stood,  for  a  moment,  just  inside  the 
door,  with  eyes  so  wide  open !  Then 
came  "Oh!"  "Oh!"  "Oh!"  "how 
grand ! "  "  how  pretty !  " 

There,  on  a  table,  stood  a  small  cedar- 
tree,  trimmed  with  doughnuts,  ginger- 
bread men  and  women,  apples,  and  red 
berries.  At  the  top  of  the  tree  was  a 
paper  angel,  with  silver  wings,  and 
around  the  trunk  was  a  lot  of  sea-moss, 
with  some  shells.  In  one  corner  of  the 
room  was  a  lambkin,  with  a  blue  ribbon 
around  its  neck ;  and  in  another  corner, 
a  dog,  just  big  enough  to  walk. 

"  I  see  what   Santa   Claus   brought 


Santa  Claus  Deer.  53 

me,"  cried  Susie.  "You  dear  little 
thing,  I  love  you  ever  so  much." 

"That  dog  is  for  me,"  said  Ralph. 
"  Shan't  we  have  lots  of  fun  out  on  the 
rocks,  when  the  winter  goes  away  ?  " 

"  Baa !  Baa !  "  cried  the  lamb. 

"  Bow-wow ! "  barked  the  dog. 

"  Caw !  Caw  1 "  shouted  I,  as  much 
from  joy  as  from  fright. 

"  Santa  Claus  is  ever  so  good.  So 
many  things  as  he  brings  me,"  said 
Susie.     "  I  knew  he  would  come." 

"  Come,  Susie,"  said  Ralph,  beckon- 
ing.    "You  know." 

"  I  almost  forgot,"  replied  Susie. 

They  went  out  of  the  room ;  and,  in 
a  minute,  came  back  again  with  a  large 


54  Stories  for  Children. 

clam-shell,  in  which  different  little  shells 
were  prettily  arranged  with  sea-moss. 

"  Ralph  and  I  made  this,  all  by  our- 
selves," said  Susie.  "  We  thought  it  a 
shame  that  Santa  Claus  should  bring 
us  every  thing,  and  forget  all  about 
mother  and  father." 

"  It  is  beautiful,"  said  the  mother,  as 
she  hugged  her  dear  child. 

"  I  never  saw  any  thing  like  it,"  said 
the  father.  "  Patty,"  he  added  aside  to 
his  wife,  "  did  you  ever  see  such  chil- 
dren ?  " 

"  Patty  1 "  said  I  to  myself.  "  Patty  ? 
Where  have  I  heard  that  name  before  ? 
Strange  !  Why,  that  was  the  name  of 
Santa  Claus'  deer." 


MAGGIE'S    WALK. 


TT  was  on  a  summer's  afternoon  that, 
looking  up  from  my  work,  I  saw 
Maggie  standing  before  me,  —  the  im- 
age of  weariness,  —  too  miserable  for 
words,  and  almost  too  miserable  for 
tears.  Her  stock  of  enjoyment  had 
long  been  exhausted.  Her  indulgent 
parents  had  showered  upon  her  all  the 
gifts  that  money  or  pains  could  procure, 
but  she  had  lost  her  interest  in  them  all. 
The  spot  in  which  our  little  cottage 
stood  was  one  of  the  loveliest  in  New 
England.    On  one  side  rose  high  moun- 


56  Stories  for  Children. 

tains,  down  the  rugged  sides  of  which 
trickled  silvery  brooks ;  and,  when  from 
the  rocky  summits  the  sun,  at  setting, 
cast  long  shadows,  one  might  often  see 
strange  forms  in  relief, —  sometimes  a 
broken  sleigh,  deserted  by  both  horse 
and  driver,  or  with  the  driver  in  his 
seat,  and  the  horse  ready  to  start.  On 
two  other  sides  of  the  landscape  were 
deep  pine  woods,  the  more  inviting 
from  their  denseness.  On  the  fourth 
side  stretched  an  almost  endless  ex- 
panse of  meadow-land,  the  monotony 
of  which  was  here  and  there  relieved 
by  a  narrow,  winding  stream,  knotted 
in  places  with  small,  irregularly  shaped 
ponds. 


Maggies   Walk.  57 

Exerting  all  my  influence  over  Mag- 
gie to  draw  her  troubled  thoughts  into 
a  pleasant  channel,  I  told  her  that,  in 
the  depths  of  the  woods  near  us,  lived 
little  beings,  of  whom  she  had  never 
even  dreamed  ;  —  of  whom  some  had 
their  frolics  in  the  tree-tops,  and  some 
swam  the  brooks,  and  then  dried  their 
emerald  skins  in  the  sun. 

By  little  and  little,  the  child's  eyes 
grew  brighter,  the  tears  ceased  to  flow, 
and  she  became  eager  to  see  the  won- 
ders of  the  woods.  So  we  went,  hand 
in  hand,  and  soon  reached  the  opening 
of  a  dark  path,  which  we  entered,  leav- 
ing behind  us  the  old  world,  of  which 
my  little  companion  was  so  weary. 


58  Stories  for  Children. 

Basket  in  hand,  we  went,  prepared 
to  bring  away  from  the  wood  some- 
thing beside  pleasant  recollections.  We 
had  not  gone  far,  when  across  our 
path  glided  a  creature  new  to  Maggie. 
It  moved  as  if  it  were  making  the 
initial  letter  of  its  own  name ;  and, 
as  it  climbed  a  grassy  mound,  which 
formed  a  sort  of  lawn  before  its  dwell- 
ing, it  displayed  to  us  a  scarlet  rib- 
bon, which,  contrasted  with  the  dark 
brown  upon  its  back,  made  it  a  beau- 
tiful little  creature.  Seeing  it,  after 
passing  between  two  hedges  of  trum- 
pet-moss, enter  its  house,  we  felt  curi- 
ous to  look  in.  So  we  gently  removed 
some    old    battlements    of   bark    from 


Maggies   Walk.  59 

one  side,  and  saw,  lying  warm  and 
snug  beneath  their  mother's  coils,  a 
family  of  fifteen  tiny  red  and  brown  be- 
ings, whose  only  greeting  was  a  charge 
of  little  forked  tongues,  which  they 
thrust  out  and  drew  in  with  such  quick- 
ness that  it  was  hard  to  make  out  their 
shape.  Restoring  the  battlements,  which 
we  had  taken  care  not  to  demolish,  we 
left  the  happy  family,  unmolested. 

Maggie  was  next  reminded  of  an  old 
friend  by  seeing  the  letter  W,  written 
over  and  over  again  in  silken  threads 
that  stretched  between  the  branches  of 
a  low  bush,  and  were  supported  by  the 
most  delicate  framework.  We  knew 
that  here,  too,  must  be  an  owner  and 


60  Stories  for  Children. 

an  occupant ;  and  we  did  not  have  to 
wait  long  for  his  appearance.  He  was 
dressed  —  as  never  knight  or  prince 
was  dressed  —  all  in  black  velvet  and 
gold.  After  casting  what  seemed  an 
indignant  look  at  us,  he  examined  his 
castle,  repaired  some  injuries  made  by 
time,  strengthened  the  weakest  parts, 
and  withdrew. 

It  seemed  as  if  wonders  would  never 
cease  in  this  enchanted  wood.  Mag- 
gie's eyes  had  now  acquired  a  peculiar 
keenness,  and  soon  they  spied  what 
mine  had  not  discovered,  —  a  fierce  fel- 
low, terrible  for  his  size,  who  carried, 
not  in  his  hands,  but  fastened  to  his 
tail,  a  giant  spear,  at  least  three  times 


Maggies   Walk.  61 

his  length.  This  spear  had  a  sheath, 
which  parted  in  halves,  when  the  weap- 
on was  in  use.  With  it  the  monster 
was  busily  at  work  upon  a  half-fallen 
tree,  flapping  his  ugly  wings,  now  and 
then,  as  if  to  challenge  us  to  a  closer 
acquaintance. 

Leaving  the  fellow  at  work,  we  fol- 
lowed the  course  of  a  stony  brook  till 
we  came  to  a  place  where  it  emptied 
into  a  grassy  morass  ;  and  here  we  saw 
things  almost  beyond  description.  I 
will  tell  you  about  some  of  them  only, 
—  about  a  settlement  of  little  imps 
of  every  size,  and  of  several  differ- 
ent shapes.  Some  had  long  tails, 
which  they  used,  now  as  rudders,  now 


62  Stories  for  Children. 

as  paddles,  their  odd  bodies  having 
neither  legs,  nor  arms,  nor  fins  ;  others 
had  shorter  tails  and  a  pair  of  very 
powerful  hind  legs,  but  only  two  curi- 
ous openings  where  the  front  legs 
should  have  been.  Presently  happened 
what  you  won't  believe,  I  fear.  We 
had  been  watching  one  of  the  two- 
legged  imps  for  some  time,  when,  sud- 
denly, from  one  of  the  holes  near  the 
head  shot  forth  a  leg,  whereupon  his 
impship  became  dizzy  and  lost  his  bal- 
ance ;  but  soon,  a  leg  sprouting  on  the 
other  side,  he  recovered  himself. 

The  last  of  the  many  wonders  we 
found  in  this  fairy  wood  made  upon 
Maggie's  mind  a  stronger  impression 


Maggies   Walk.  63 

than  any  thing  else ;  and,  perhaps,  it 
may  interest  you,  too.  We  were  sit- 
ting upon  a  large,  mossy  rock,  close 
to  a  spreading  walnut-tree,  and  wish- 
ing that  the  nuts  were  ripe,  when 
Maggie's  quick  eyes  again  espied  a 
movement  among  some  leaves  near 
us.  On  parting  the  thick  cluster,  we 
found  a  long,  light-green  creature, 
which  you  would  hardly  call  a  fairy, 
or  an  imp :  its  movements  were  too 
slow  for  either  imp  or  fairy;  yet  it 
had  marks  of  beauty,  which,  in  a  creat- 
ure of  different  form,  would  have  ex- 
cited admiration.  It  moved  upon  a 
double  row  of  feet,  eight  on  each  side ; 
and   only  moved   in  order   to   gain  a 


6\  Stories  for  Children. 

position  more  convenient  for  devour- 
ing another  leaf. 

It  being  clear  that  we  must  stay 
many  days  in  the  wood  to  learn  all 
the  ways  of  our  new  friend,  we  de- 
cided to  gather  a  supply  of  leaves,  and 
to  take  him  home.  It  was  now  grow- 
ing dark;  even  Maggie's  eyes  could 
no  longer  detect  new  marvels,  and  her 
little  feet  were  beginning  to  weary ; 
so  we  turned  our  steps  homeward, 
and  reached  the  house  long  after 
Maggie's  mother  had  begun  to  feel 
alarmed  by  her  little  girl's  absence. 

We  had  not  filled  our  baskets ;  but 
we  felt  that  we  had  close  at  hand  better 
Zoological  Gardens   than  London  can 


Maggies    Walk.  65 

boast ;  and  we  did  bring  home  our 
treasure,  the  green  glutton  from  the 
walnut-tree.  I  call  him  a  glutton,  be- 
cause he  proved  himself  worthy  of  the 
name.  For  three  weeks,  we  supplied 
him  daily  with  fresh  leaves,  which  he 
seemed  to  be  constantly  devouring, 
night  and  day. 

One  morning  Maggie  came  running 
to  me,  and,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  told 
me  that  her  dear  green  glutton  was 
going  to  die,  for  he  would  take  no 
food.  Hastening  to  see  what  the  mat- 
ter was,  I  found  that  the  glutton  had, 
in  truth,  turned  saint,  and  was  fasting. 
This  was  not  all.  He  had  turned  his 
energies  to  a  useful  pursuit,  —  he  was 

s 


66  Stories  for  Children. 

weaving ;  yes,  he  was  weaving,  in  the 
corner  of  his  cage,  some  silken  threads, 
which  gradually  took  the  shape  of  an 
egg.  With  the  greatest  industry,  he 
had  in  two  days  enclosed  himself  in 
a  cell  so  strong  that  you  could  not 
tear  it,  and  so  firmly  woven  that  the 
winds  of  winter  could  not  injure  it. 
In  this  cell  the  reformed  glutton  re- 
mained, fasting  as  never  saint  or  her- 
mit fasted. 

When  we  returned  to  our  city  home, 
at  the  close  of  the  summer,  we  carried 
with  us  our  monk,  cell  and  all.  He 
passed  the  entire  winter  in  conceal- 
ment, not  even  leaving  his  retreat  at 
the  season  when  other  monks,  all  the 


Maggies   Walk.  67 

world  over,  are  merry,  —  not  even  join- 
ing in  the  Christmas  festival. 

Not  till  spring  was  deepening  into 
summer,  and  our  thoughts  were  again 
wandering  in  green  fields  and  en- 
chanted woods,  did  a  change  come 
over  him.  Looking  one  day  at  the 
hermitage,  we  found  a  breach  in 
the  hitherto  impervious  walls,  and  a 
broad  entrance-way  wide  open.  On  a 
pink  rose,  that  exhaled  its  fragrance 
near  by,  sat  enthroned  a  creature  that 
I  think  you  would  have  called  a  fairy. 
Its  wings  were  like  green  gauze,  and 
were  adorned  with  transparent  eye- 
spots  ;  and  upon  its  body  seemed  to 
blush  with  pride  a  down,  softer  than 


68  Stories  for  Children. 

ever  princess,  human  or  fairy,  reposed 
her  head  upon. 

Is  Maggie  weary  of  life  now,  and 
can  her  friends  devise  no  pleasures  for 
her?     Come  and  see. 


CHICKEN'S    MISTAKE. 


"lV/TY  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Hen  to 
Chicken  Plump,  her  son,  "  I 
fear  you're  eating  too  much." 

"  Oh  no  !  "  returned  the  saucy  chick  ; 
"  I  know  how  much  my  crop  will 
hold." 

"  Cluck  !  Cluck  !  my  son,  you  forget 
how  young  you  are.  Why,  you  began 
to  peep  only  four  months  ago.  Now 
you  are  quite  a  chicken,  to  be  sure ; 
but  don't  think,  because  your  comb  is 
beginning  to  sprout,  that  you  know 
more  than  your  elders.     We,  who  have 


70  Stories  for  Children. 

picked  and  scratched  for  years,  have 
picked  up  wisdom  ;  and  chickens  like 
you  should  heed  what  we  say." 

"  Oh  dear ! "  grumbled  chick  :  "  I  never 
can  do  any  thing  right.  When  I  pecked 
Coquet  this  morning  for  getting  all  the 
oats,  you  pounced  upon  me  like  a 
hawk,  and  nearly  pecked  my  head  off. 
I  can  never  get  on  the  barn-yard  gate 
to  flap  my  wings  and  crow,  without 
your  cackling,  '  That's  father's  place  ; 
you'd  better  keep  where  you  belong.' 
And  now  you  say  I'm  growing  too  fat. 
What's  the  use  —  please  tell  me  —  of 
keeping  as  thin  as  a  feather,  when 
there's  so  much  nice  grain  scattered 
about  ? " 


Chickens  Mistake.  71 

11  You  forget,"  answered  Mrs.  Hen, 
"  that  that's  the  farmer's  way  to  fatten 
you  for  next  Thanksgiving.  That 
dreadful  day  isn't  far  off;  and  if  you 
will  be  a  glutton,  you  will  certainly 
lose  your  head.  Look  at  me !  For 
six  years  I've  governed  my  appetite, 
and  here  I  am.  They  call  me  the 
tough  old  speckled  hen ;  but  what  of 
that?  I'd  rather  be  tough  and  alive, 
than  tender  and  roasted.  Take  your 
mother's  advice :  remember  that  mod- 
erate eating  and  a  long  life  are  better 
than  gluttony  and  a  hot  oven ! " 

Impatient  of  so  much  wisdom,  Chick- 
en ran  off  to  the  sty,  where  he  found 
his  friend  Neb,  the  pig. 


72  Stories  for  Children. 

"  Ha,  Neb,"  cried  he,  "you  lazy  thing! 
Why  don't  you  bestir  yourself,  instead 
of  dozing  here  all  day,  with  such  a  dirty 
face  ?  " 

"Stir  myself!"  exclaimed  Neb; 
"  that's  not  easily  done.  Somehow,  my 
legs  are  getting  too  small  for  me." 

"  I  might  give  you  a  little  advice, 
but  that's  not  in  my  line :  you'd  bet- 
ter talk  with  my  mother,  Mrs.  Hen. 
She'd  tell  you  to  stop  eating,  if  you 
don't  want  to  be  stuffed  and  roasted 
next  Thanksgiving  day :  that's  the  way 
she  talks  to  me." 

"  Stuffed ! "  repeated  Neb,  with  an 
angry  twinkle  in  his  little  gray  eyes. 
"  Such    stuff  will   do    for    half-fledged 


Chickens  Mistake.  73 

chickens ;  but  for  me,  —  why,  I'm  worth 
my  weight  in  corn,  yes,  fifty  times  as 
much.  Don't  you  see  how  the  farmer 
fills  my  trough,  every  day,  with  good 
things?  and  how' pleased  he  is  when  I 
eat  well  ?  Don't  that  prove  that  he's 
not  going  to  kill  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Chicken,  gayly. 
"  Guess  we  know  what's  what :  but 
there's  the  farmer.  Hope  you'll  have 
a  good  dinner." 

So  Chicken  and  Neb  went  on  eat- 
ing and  enjoying  themselves  till,  one 
dark  morning,  Chicken  was  aroused 
by  a  terrible  squeal.  He  flew  from 
his  perch,  and  ran  into  the  yard. 
There  was    poor    Neb,   lying   dead,  — 


74  Stories  for  Children. 

the  butcher  standing  near  him,  with 
a  great  knife  in  his  hand. 

Chicken,  terribly  frightened  at  the 
sight,  ran  to  hide  under  a  rock. 

"  What  if  I  should  be  mistaken  ? " 
thought  he.     "  I  wish  "  — 

Can  you  guess,  little  folks,  what  he 
wished? 

Whatever  it  was,  it  came  too  late: 
he  was  roasted  for  the  next  Thanks- 
giving dinner. 


ABOUT    THE    STARS. 


/^\NE  night  when  Corinne  and  my- 
^^^  self  were  taking  a  walk,  the  stars 
shone  so  brightly  as  to  attract  my  little 
friend's  attention.  She  stopped  walk- 
ing, and,  turning  her  face  upward, 
gazed  at  them  a  long  time.  As  we 
went  on,  she  did  not  say  a  word,  but 
seemed  to  be  puzzling  her  head  with 
some  difficult  question. 

"  Uncle  John,"  at  last  she  burst 
out,  "who  lights  up  the  stars  every 
night?  " 

While  I  was  thinking  what  answer 
to  make,  Corinne  said, — 


76  Stories  for  Children. 


"  Oh,  I  know !  God  goes  around  just 
as  soon  as  it  gets  dark,  and  lights 
them  all  up.  He  has  to  go  pretty  fast, 
doesn't  he? " 

Another  little  girl  thought  that  there 
were  holes  in  the  sky,  and  that  the  light 
shone  through.  She  always  prayed 
most  earnestly  when  the  stars  were 
out,  feeling  sure  that  her  prayers  would 
get  through  some  of  the  holes. 

Now,  my  little  friends,  I  am  going  to 
try  to  answer  a  few  of  the  questions 
that  chase  one  another  up  and  down 
your  busy  brains.  What  does  make 
the  stars  shine?  and  why  do  they  shine 
only  at  night? 

We  will  talk  about  the  last  question 


About  the  Stars.  77 

first.  Some  day,  when  the  sun  shines, 
ask  your  mother  to  light  a  lamp  and 
put  it  in  the  middle  of  the  room  :  then 
run  out  of  doors,  and  you  will  find  that 
the  windows  of  the  lighted  room  look 
just  like  the  other  windows  of  the 
house.  In  the  evening,  look  again  at 
the  windows,  and  you  will  see  some  of 
them  dark  and  others  light.  In  the 
daytime,  the  sun  puts  out  the  light  of 
the  lamp.  In  the  same  way,  the  stars 
are  put  out  in  the  daytime,  and  shine 
at  night.  All  day  long  they  are  in 
their  places ;  but  you  can't  see  them, 
because  the  sunlight  is  so  much 
brighter. 

Now,  what  makes  the  stars  shine? 


78  Stories  for  Children. 

They  are  on  fire,  —  most  of  them.  They 
are  many  times  larger  than  the  earth 
we  live  on,  and  yet  they  are  all  on  fire. 
Don't  you  think  you  could  see  this 
earth  a  long  way  off,  if  it  were  burn- 
ing? Perhaps  some  wise  little  head 
wonders  why  the  stars  are  not  brighter, 
if  they  are  so  much  larger  than  this 
earth,  and  are  burning :  but  how  far 
off  do  you  think  they  are  ? 

It  will  be  difficult  for  me  to  give  you 
an  idea  of  the  distance ;  and  you  must 
watch  every  word  I  say. 

If  there  were  any  people  away  off 
where  the  farthest  stars  are,  they  could 
see,  after  dark,  our  sun  as  a  speck  in 
the  sky,  looking  like  one  of  the  stars 


About  the  Stars.  79 

you  will  see  to-night ;  and,  if  we  were 
as  near  Sirius  (one  of  the  stars)  as  we 
are  to  the  sun,  Sirius  would  give  us 
just  as  much  light:  instead  of  twink- 
ling faintly,  he  would  be  so  bright  that 
we  could  not  look  at  him  steadily  any 
more  than  we  can  at  the  sun. 

Shall  we  make  a  journey  to  the  sun  ? 
Suppose  we  go  by  rail,  and  start  to- 
morrow. We  will  ask  the  engineer  to 
run  his  train  as  fast  as  he  can,  and  not 
to  stop  till  he  arrives.  Summer  and 
winter  have  come  and  gone ;  one  whole 
year  we  have  been  riding ;  and  yet  the 
sun  seems  as  far  off  as  ever.  We  keep 
on  riding ;  and  the  years  go  by.  You 
little   folks    have   become   grown  men 


80  Stories  for  Children. 

and  women ;  and  still  the  train  does 
not  stop.  You  are  all  gray-headed  now, 
and  yet  the  engineer  says  that  our  jour- 
ney is  but  just  begun.  If  it  takes  many 
more  years,  we  shall  all  die,  and  never 
reach  the  sun  at  all.  But  suppose  we 
live  as  long  as  we  wish  to :  on,  on,  on, 
we  ride  till  we  are  one  hundred  and 
fifty  years  old,  two  hundred,  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty.  At  last,  our  journey 
is  ended.  We  have  been  travelling 
nearly  three  hundred  and  fifty  years, 
five  times  as  long  as  any  of  you,  my 
little  friends,  are  likely  to  live ;  and  yet 
we  have  only  reached  our  sun,  —  the 
nearest  star. 


BERTIE'S   DREAM. 


"DERTIE  was  lying  in  a  hammock 
on  the  piazza,  thinking  of  the 
stories  that  his  sister  had  been  read- 
ing to  him.  He  had  tried  to  study; 
but,  the  day  being  hot  and  sultry,  he 
had  thrown  aside  his  book,  and  gone 
out  on  the  piazza.  As  he  swung  in  his 
hammock,  his  sister  read  to  him  about 
a  beautiful  part  of  the  world,  called 
Switzerland.  In  that  country  there  are 
a  great  many  mountains  so  high  that 
they  rise  far  up  out  of  the  heat  to 
where   it   is  windy  and  cold,  —  so  cold 


82  Stories  for  Children. 

that  no  plants  grow,  and  that  the  only 
animals  to  be  seen  are  deer  of  a  kind 
which  the  cold  does  not  harm.  As  it 
keeps  snowing  and  freezing,  the  ice 
grows  deeper  and  deeper  until  it  be- 
gins to  slide  down  the  side  of  the 
mountain  in  shining  streams,  called 
glaciers,  which,  when  melted  in  the 
warm  country  below,  change  to  brooks 
and  rivers.  These  ice-streams  are  very 
beautiful  and  wonderful ;  and  the  book 
Bertie's  sister  had  been  reading  was 
full  of  stories  about  bold  travellers  and 
hunters  who  had  gone  up  on  the  high 
rocks  and  among  the  dangerous  fields 
of  snow. 

Still  swinging  in  his  hammock,  Ber- 


Bertie  s  Dream.  83 

tie  looked  across  the  country,  dry  and 
dusty  in  the  heat,  to  a  pretty  hill  which 
rose  up  from  among  the  woods,  and 
thought :  "  I  wish  I  could  go  away 
from  here  up  to  some  place  where  it  is 
cool  and  snowy.  I  wonder  if  that  hill 
is  very  high.  I  have  been  up  there, 
but  it  is  not  very  cold,  and  there  is  no 
snow.  I  wish  it  was  as  high  as  the 
hills  Elsie  read  about." 

Next  morning,  Bertie  looked  out,  as 
usual,  to  see  the  beautiful,  waving 
woods,  with  the  morning  sunlight  upon 
them.  He  could  always  see  a  little  of 
the  hill  above  the  trees ;  but  this 
morning  he  saw  more  of  it  than 
ever  before.     "  Perhaps  the  trees  have 


84  Stories  for  Children. 

grown  shorter  in  the  night,"  thought 
he. 

Strangely  enough,  the  hill  rose  high- 
er every  day,  and  farther  above  the 
trees ;  and  Bertie  clapped  his  hands  for 
joy  one  morning,  as  he  thought, — 

"  Perhaps  the  hill  is  really  growing 
higher !  I  will  wait  until  it  is  as  high 
as  one  of  the  Alps  ;  and  then,  some  hot 
day,  I'll  go  up  into  the  cold ! " 

The  hill,  still  rising  and  rising,  grew 
sharper  and  steeper ;  and  the  trees  on 
the  summit  changed  from  green  to  red, 
and  from  red  to  brown.  One  night,  the 
sky  was  red,  and  the  air  was  thick  with 
smoke ;  and,  next  day,  the  hill  was 
black    and    bare.       Steep,    gray    rocks 


Bertie  s  Dream.  85 

soon  grew  through  the  round  hill-top ; 
and  one  cool  morning,  after  a  thunder- 
storm, the  top  was  all  white  with  snow. 

After  this  snow  came,  Bertie,  when- 
ever he  was  troubled  by  the  heat  and 
dust  and  work  of  the  day,  used  to 
comfort  himself  with  thinking  that  he 
would  soon  go  up  and  rest  in  the  clean, 
soft  snow ;  but,  feeling  rather  lazy  in 
the  warm  weather,  he  never  quite  got 
ready  to  start. 

One  day,  Bertie  went  down  to  take 
a  bath  in  the  stream  which  flowed 
through  the  woods  just  beyond  the 
lawn.  Plunging  in  from  a  rock,  as 
usual,  he  was  surprised  at  finding  the 
water  as  cold  as  ice.     It  chilled  him  so 


86  Stories  for  Children. 

thoroughly  that  he  could  neither  stand 
nor  swim,  and  was  carried,  struggling, 
down  the  stream ;  at  the  same  time, 
the  water  rilled  his  ears,  and  he  seemed 
to  hear  little  voices  saying,  — 

"  He  wished  the  hill  to  grow,  and 
was  not  satisfied :  now  it  is  high,  and 
he  sleeps  at  home.  Let  us  chill  him. 
Let  us  scrape  him  on  this  rock.  He 
would  not  seek  us  above:  let  us  toss 
him  down  this  fall ;  let  us  spin  him 
around;  and  now  let  us  leave  him  —  " 

Bewildered,  Bertie  found  himself  ly- 
ing on  a  bed  of  rushes  on  the  bank. 
He  hastily  put  on  his  clothes,  and, 
being  afraid  to  stay  any  longer  with 
the    brook,   ran    home.     All    day    he 


Bertie  s  Dream.  87 

thought  of  what  the  voices  in  the 
brook  had  said  to  him ;  and  he  re- 
solved that  he  would  really  go  up  the 
mountain  in  the  morning. 

Before  breakfast,  accordingly,  Ber- 
tie stole  softly  out  of  the  house,  and 
walked  on  through  the  woods,  wonder- 
ing, as  he  went,  whether  the  two  shin- 
ing, white  stripes  that  he  had  seen 
running  down  the  side  of  the  mountain 
could  really  be  glaciers,  like  those  his 
sister  had  read  of. 

The  woods  were  cool  and  dark  so 
early  in  the  morning,  and  he  found  no 
difficulty  in  walking  fast.  Coming  to 
the  foot  of  the  hill,  he  stopped  to  eat 
blueberries,  and  rested  for  a  while  by 


88  Stories  for  Children. 

the  side  of  a  pretty  waterfall ;  but  soon 
a  cold  jet  of  water  falling  on  his  neck 
warned  him  to  hasten,  while  the  brook 
ran  on,  rippling  as  though  it  enjoyed 
the  joke. 

After  clambering  for  some  time  over 
old,  fallen  trunks  of  trees,  Bertie  left 
the  forest,  and  came  out  on  the  bare 
side  of  the  hill,  now  become  a  moun- 
tain ;  and  here  what  a  wonderful  sight 
he  saw!  Far  above  him,  the  moun- 
tain was  white  with  snow ;  and  from 
the  great  drifts  a  long  stream  of  ice 
reached  down,  —  light  green  on  the 
crests  of  the  jagged  and  curving  waves, 
deep  blue  between,  and  all  glittering 
in  the  sunlight. 


Bertie  s  Dream.  89 

At  this  long-wished-for  sight,  Bertie 
uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  and  ran  eagerly 
on  till  he  reached  the  edge  of  the  ice, 
where  boiled  up  several  springs,  which 
sent  their  foaming  waters  down  the 
rocks.  Here  Bertie  would  willingly 
have  rested ;  but  something  in  the 
murmur  of  the  water  seemed  to  forbid 
this,  and  he  began  to  climb  over  the 
ice. 

He  struggled  on  manfully  for  a  long 
time,  although,  on  all  sides,  yawned  ter- 
ribly deep  caverns  between  the  waves 
of  ice.  At  length,  he  came  to  a  long 
field  of  snow,  up  which  he  plodded 
laboriously,  sinking  to  his  knees  at 
every  step,  until  he  saw  a  great  cliff 


90  Stories  for  Children. 

before  him  that  seemed  to  rise  directly 
out  of  the  snow.  Looking  at  its  frown- 
ing face,  he  felt  certain  that  he  could 
never  climb  to  the  top ;  looking  back 
towards  his  home,  he  saw,  to  his  sur- 
prise, nothing  but  a  huge,  white  cloud, 
which  was  slowly  moving  up  the  moun- 
tain, and  hiding  rock  after  rock.  A 
chill  pierced  his  very  bones  ;  he  turned, 
and  was  hastening  down  the  mountain, 
when  he  was  thrown  over  bv  a  blast 
of  wind,  —  a  roaring,  freezing  wind,  that 
seemed  to  hold  him  on  the  ground, 
while  flakes  of  snow  stung  his  flesh, 
like  red-hot  needles.  He  struggled  to 
his  feet,  and  took  a  few  more  steps  in 
the   darkness.     Presently,   he    thought 


Bertie  s  Dream.  91 

he  heard  the  rushing  of  a  brook ;  he 
tried  to  crawl  towards  it,  but  suddenly 
sank  in  the  snow,  and  seemed  to  fall. 

Bertie  remembered  nothing  more 
until  he  found  himself  lying  in  a  cav- 
ern with  walls  of  ice,  through  which 
glimmered  a  faint,  blue,  light.  Above 
him  on  a  throne  of  rock  was  sitting  one 
of  the  queerest  old  men  you  can  imag- 
ine. He  was  nearly  bald,  and  what  little 
hair  he  had  was  snow-white ;  his  eyes 
were  very  large,  and,  on  looking  into 
them,  you  seemed  to  see  a  wide  coun- 
try with  forests,  hills,  and  rivers.  His 
shoulders  were  clothed  in  a  mantle  of 
Avhite,  through  which  appeared,  here 
and  there,  a  gray  under-garment ;  and 


92  Stories  for  Children. 

the  lower  part  of  his  body  was  covered 
with  a  variegated  robe  of  green  and 
brown.  His  arms  were  bare,  and  very 
hard  and  white  near  the  shoulders ; 
lower  down,  they  were  continually 
changing  their  form ;  and  the  hands 
seemed  to  mingle  with  a  stream  of 
water  that  was  flowing  along  the  floor 
of  the  cavern. 

"  Bertie,"  said  the  old  man,  "  you  let 
your  mountain  grow  too  high.  If  you 
had  left  off  sleeping  that  day,  when 
you  were  so  hot  and  tired,  you  might, 
with  little  trouble,  have  reached  the 
top.  Remember  never  to  dream  about 
what  you  desire ;  but  try  to  deserve  it 
by  work.     Laziness  wishes  too  much, 


Bertie  s  Dream.  93 

and  makes  its  wishes  excuses  for  doing 
nothing. 

"  I  am  the  Spirit  of  the  Mountain. 
Formerly,  I  was  mighty ;  and  many 
proud  rivers  owned  me  as  their  lord  ; 
but  my  glaciers  dwindled  away  long 
ago,  and  my  only  remaining  servant  is 
your  friend,  the  brook.  I  am  bent  with 
age.  For  a  thousand  years,  I  had  not 
seen  my  former  friends,  nor  signalled 
them  the  rising  of  the  sun ;  but,  once 
in  a  thousand  years,  we  regain  our  for- 
mer beauty  and  strength.  This  is  my 
day.     It  is  nearly  done  :  farewell." 

The  voice  rumbled  through  the  cav- 
ern, growing  fainter  and  fainter,  until  it 
sounded  like  the  pattering  of  rain-drops 


94  Stories  for  Children. 

on  the  piazza ;  and  Bertie  awoke,  with 
a  start,  to  hear  his  sister  say,  — 

"  Come,  Bertie ;  you  haven't  learned 
your  Sunday-school  lesson,  have  you  ?  " 


BUMBLE'S    FIRST   DAY   AT  WORK. 


B 


UMBLE  was  a  fine  young  bee. 
He  lived  next  to  a  large  field 
of  clover,  in  a  nest  under  a  stone  wall, 
and  he  wore  an  elegant  suit  of  black 
and  yellow,  of  which  he  was  very  proud 
indeed.  He  was  about  a  month  old, 
when,  one  morning,  much  to  his  sur- 
prise, he  was  summoned  to  the  pres- 
ence of  the  queen. 

He  went  immediately  to  the  queens 
chamber,  where  she  sat  in  great  splen- 
dor, surrounded  by  her  ministers  and 
public  servants,  —  all  very  grave  per- 


g6  Stories  for  Children. 

sons,  —  who  took  no  notice  of  Bumble. 
Bumble  knew  that  they  were  the  wisest 
and  the  most  celebrated  bees  in  the 
queendom :  but,  nevertheless,  he  did 
not  feel  at  all  afraid  of  them  ;  for,  be- 
ing one  of  the  queen's  own  subjects,  he 
knew  that  he  had  as  good  a  right  to 
be  there  as  they  had.  So  he  waited 
till  the  queen's  notice  was  attracted  to 
him  ;  and  then,  bowing  very  low  before 
the  throne,  awaited  the  royal  com- 
mands. 

At  a  signal  from  the  queen,  the 
prime  minister  proceeded  to  read  to 
Bumble  a  long  paper,  full  of  hard 
words.  Of  these  he  understood  enough 
to  make  out  that  he  was  now,  accord- 


Bumbles  First  Day  at  Work.  97 

ing  to  the  ancient  custom  of  the  realm, 
old  enough  to  enter  into  the  service  of 
the  queen ;  that  he  was,  that  very  day, 
to  sally  forth  to  gather  honey  and  wax ; 
and  that  he  should,  thenceforth,  bear 
the  high  and  noble  title,  Q.  H.  G.,  which 
means  "  Queen's  Honey  Gatherer." 

"  I  will  not  waste  my  time  on  that 
old  clover,"  thought  the  silly,  conceited 
bee.  "  I  will  go  to  the  garden  I  passed 
yesterday,  and  will  nip  the  largest  and 
gayest  flowers  that  grow.  In  this  way 
I  shall  get  more  honey  than  the  others 
will,  I'm  sure,  and  shall  win  myself  a 
great  reputation." 

So  saying,  he  started  quite  in.  the 
opposite  direction  from  the  other  bees, 


98  Stories  for  Children. 

who  went  soberly  arid  industriously  to 
the  clover-field. 

It  being  quite  late  when  he  arrived 
at  the  garden,  Bumble  resolved  to 
make  up  for  lost  time  by  immediately 
choosing  the  brightest  flowers  to  be 
seen.  So  he  buzzed  around  among 
the  red  and  the  yellow  dahlias,  the 
great  double  roses,  and  the  showy  blos- 
soms of  the  snow-ball  tree,  but  found 
them  all  dry  and  tasteless. 

After  spending  several  hours  in  this 
way,  Bumble  stopped  to  rest  under  the 
cool  shade  of  a  sorrel  leaf,  while  he 
tried  to  determine  what  to  do  next, — 
his  honey-bag  hanging  empty,  though 
the  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens. 


Bumbles  First  Day  at  Work.     99 

"  O  dear !  what  can  be  the  mat- 
ter?" thought  Bumble.  "  I'm  sure  I've 
worked  hard  all  the  morning,  and  I'm 
just  as  tired  as  can  be.  I  mean  to  ask 
that  butterfly  over  there." 

"  Hallo  !  Butterfly,  what's  the  luck  ? 
How  much  honey  have  you  got? 
Where  is  all  the  honey  in  this  gar- 
den ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  any  thing  about  such 
things ;  I'm  a  gentleman  of  leisure," 
replied  the  butterfly,  "and  my  name 
is  Mr.  Butterfly,  if  you  please." 

"  Don't  put  on  airs,"  retorted  Bum- 
ble, thrusting  out  his  sting ;  "  I  won't 
stand  it." 

"What   will   you  do  about   it,  vul- 


ioo         Stories  for  Children. 

gar  creature  ?  "  exclaimed  the  butterfly. 
"  Come  on  ;  I'm  ready  for  you." 

No  sooner  were  these  words  said 
than  they  rushed  at  each  other  with 
such  fury  that  Bumble  fell  to  the 
ground  at  the  first  shock.  Recovering 
himself,  he  went  at  the  butterfly  again, 
this  time  with  more  caution :  but 
though  he  found  it  easy  to  dodge  the 
butterfly,  who  could  not  easily  turn  his 
large  wings,  it  was  more  difficult  to 
attack  him  with  success.  After  several 
skirmishes,  the  combatants  grappled 
for  the  second  time,  and  Bumble  lost 
one  of  his  legs. 

His  strength  now  began  to  give  out ; 
and,   as    the    butterfly   kept    on   chas- 


Bumbles  First  Day  at   Work.  101 

ing  him  without  mercy,  he  became 
alarmed. 

"  If  I  lose  one  of  my  wings,"  thought 
he,  "  I  am  lost." 

While  making  these  reflections,  he 
flew  more  slowly ;  but,  before  he  could 
turn  to  fly  under  the  butterfly,  as  he 
tried  to  do,  his  right  wing  was  firmly 
grasped  by  the  mouth  of  his  terrible 
pursuer. 

"  All  is  lost ! "  thought  Bumble,  in 
despair,  when  — just  in  the  nick  of 
time  —  he  heard  footsteps  and  a  child's 
voice  crying  out,  — 

"  O  Laura,  Laura,  come  and  see  this 
beautiful  butterfly !  I'll  catch  him  under 
my  hat." 


102         Stories  for  Children. 

The  butterfly  instantly  dropped  the 
wing  of  his  victim,  and  fled  ;  and  Bum- 
ble was  only  too  glad  to  escape  in  the 
opposite  direction. 

As  he  was  faint  with  hunger  and 
fatigue,  and  as  the  stump  of  his  leg 
gave  him  great  pain,  Bumble  was  forced 
to  give  up  all  thoughts  of  further  work 
that  day,  and  to  start  for  home.  He 
could  hardly  bring  himself  to  appear 
before  his  fellow-bees  in  such  a  plight, 
but  there  was  no  help  for  it ;  besides, 
he  could  not  have  reached  the  clover 
without  passing  the  nest.  So  he  made 
the  best  of  his  way  home. 

Poor  Bumble !  You  can  imagine 
how  ashamed  he  felt,  and  how  severely 


Bumbles  First  Day  at  Work.    103 

he  was  punished  for  his  wilfulness  and 
conceit.  He  was  only  too  glad  to  crawl 
off  to  his  cell,  and  thus  to  escape  the 
laughter  that  greeted  his  crest-fallen 
appearance.  It  was  long  before  the 
wits  of  the  hive  gave  up  cracking  jokes 
and  telling  stories  about  "  Bumble's 
first  day  at  work." 


BRONCO. 


V\7"HEN  Arthur  Murray  was  nine 
years  old,  he  was  living  in  the 
country,  about  twenty  miles  from  a 
large  city.  His  home  was  up  among 
the  hills ;  and  every  morning  he  rode 
down  to  the  village  school  on  his  Shet- 
land pony. 

On  Arthur's  ninth  birthday,  his  fa- 
ther said  that  he  was  growing  so  fast 
that  he  would,  in  three  years,  be  too 
heavy  for  the  pony.  So  his  father 
made  Arthur  a  present  of  a  colt,  only 
a  few  days  old,  that  was  running  in  the 


Bronco.  105 

field  with  its  mother.  The  little  fel- 
low, with  his  thin  legs  and  bushy  tail, 
looked  so  weak,  by  the  side  of  his  big 
mother,  that  Arthur  thought  he  would 
never  be  strong  enough  to  carry  any- 
body on  his  back ;  but  Arthur's  father 
told  him  that,  before  he  had  had  three 
more  birthdays,  the  colt  would  be  able 
to  carry  Uncle  John  and  Arthur  too. 

Arthur  was  very  happy  with  his  new 
present.  The  first  thing  he  did  was  to 
see  Uncle  John  and  ask  him  to  break 
in  the  colt  as  soon  as  he  was  old 
enough.  Uncle  John  promised  to  do 
this,  but  said  that  Arthur  must  make 
the  colt  as  gentle  as  possible,  so  that 
afterwards  he  might  be  more  obedient. 


106         Stories  for  Children. 

Arthur  tried  very  hard  to  do  what 
his  uncle  desired.  He  went  into  the 
field  every  morning  before  school,  and 
every  afternoon  as  soon  as  school  was 
out,  and  coaxed  the  colt's  mother  with 
lumps  of  sugar;  but  every  time  he 
tried  to  put  his  arms  around  the  little 
fellow's  neck,  the  old  mother  pushed 
him  away  with  her  nose,  as  much  as  to 
say :  "  I  know  you  are  going  to  take  my 
baby  by  and  by,  but,  until  he  is  big 
enough  to  carry  you,  you  must  let  me 
have  him  to  love,  all  by  myself."  The 
little  colt,  too,  soon  knew  what  his 
mother  meant,  and,  whenever  Arthur 
entered  the  field,  became  so  lively, 
jumping    about    and    kicking   up   his 


Bronco.  107 

heels  with  such  vigor,  that  Arthur 
couldn't  get  near  him. 

Arthur  was,  however,  so  patient,  and 
gave  the  mother  so  many  lumps  of 
sugar,  that,  at  last,  one  morning,  he 
actually  succeeded  in  patting  the  colt. 
When  he  started  to  go  home  that  day, 
they  both  followed  him  to  the  fence, 
and,  as  they  looked  over  it,  seemed  to 
tell  him  that  henceforth  they  would  be 
his  good  friends,  and  that  he  could 
come  and  see  them  as  often  as  he 
pleased. 

During  the  next  six  months  Arthur 
spent  all  his  spare  time  with  his  new 
pet,  which  he  called  Bronco,  —  a  name 
that    the    Spaniards    give    to   a   horse 


108         Stories  for  Children. 

which  is  wild  and  frisky.  He  made  a 
pretty  little  bridle  of  cloth  for  Bronco 
to  wear  in  the  field ;  and  soon  Bronco 
consented  to  carry,  every  night  and 
every  morning,  a  light  saddle  which 
Arthur's  father  had  given  him. 

Bronco  had  now  become  so  used  to 
Arthur  that  he  would  let  him  do  almost 
any  thing,  would  wait  for  him  at  the 
fence,  morning  and  evening,  and  would 
follow  him  across  the  field  back  to  the 
fence,  as  if  to  bid  him  good-by.  Indeed, 
Arthur  and  Bronco  became  so  fond  of 
each  other,  that  Arthur  often  cut  short 
his  games  at  school,  and  ran  home  to 
play  with  his  dear  colt.  Bronco  would 
lift  up  one  foot  after  another  to  shake 


Bronco.  1 09 

hands  with  Arthur  :  Arthur  would  run 
against  Bronco,  and  try  to  push  him 
over,  or  would  throw  his  arms  around 
his  neck,  and  try  to  pull  him  to  the 
ground.  Sometimes,  they  played  tag  : 
Bronco  ran  after  Arthur  and  seized  his 
arm  in  his  mouth  ;  or  Arthur  chased 
Bronco  and  caught  him  by  the  tail, 
or,  if  he  couldn't  do  that,  lay  on  the 
ground,  pretending  to  be  asleep,  and 
jumped  up  when  Bronco  came  to  see 
what  was  the  matter,  and  caught  him. 

When  Bronco  was  two  years  old,  he 
had  lost  his  rough  skin,  and  was  of  a 
dark  chestnut  color,  with  black  mane 
and  tail.  He  was  like  a  prince  among 
the  other  horses ;  and  they  all  followed 


no         Stories  for   Children. 

him,  as  their  leader.  Sometimes  he 
would  run  with  them  to  the  top  of  a 
hill  at  one  end  of  the  field,  and  stand, 
with  his  mane  and  tail  streaming  in  the 
wind,  pawing  the  ground  and  sniffing 
the  fresh  air.  Then,  suddenly,  he  would 
gallop  down  the  hill  and  to  the  other 
end  of  the  field,  nearly  half  a  mile 
away,  ■ —  all  the  other  horses  following 
him,  —  then  back  to  the  hill  again  ; 
and  often  he  would  repeat  this  half 
a  dozen  times. 

There  was  not  a  ditch  nor  a  fence  on 
the  whole  farm  that  he  did  not  jump 
with  the  greatest  ease.  If  he  found, 
after  jumping  a  fence,  that  the  other 
horses  could  not  follow  him,  and  that 


Bronco.  1 1 1 

he  would  have  to  enjoy  the  new  pas- 
tures alone,  he  jumped  back  again,  kick- 
ing off  the  top  board  as  he  jumped,  so 
as  to  make  the  fence  low  enough  for 
the  others ;  or,  if  it  was  a  picket  fence, 
he  would  rear  on  his  hind  legs,  and 
knock  off  the  tops  of  the  pickets  with 
his  fore  feet. 

It  was  not  until  Bronco  was  nearly 
three  years  old  that  Arthur's  Uncle 
John  began  to  break  him  to  the  saddle. 
He  had  very  little  trouble,  as  Bronco 
had  become  used  to  being  handled  by 
Arthur;  and,  as  soon  as  Bronco  got 
accustomed  to  feeling  some  one  on 
his  back,  he  cared  very  little  for  the 
weight. 


1 1 2  Stories  for  Children. 

On  his  twelfth  birthday,  Arthur  rode 
Bronco  for  the  first  time  ;  and,  after 
galloping  all  over  the  farm,  put  him 
in  the  stable  and  gave  him  a  double 
supply  of  oats,  as  he  intended  next  day 
to  ride  him  to  the  city,  there  to  spend 
a  few  days  at  his  uncle's  house. 

The  next  morning  Arthur  started  for 
the  city.  Bronco,  who  had  never  been 
away  from  the  farm,  seemed  very  un- 
easy, as  he  went  down  the  lane  towards 
the  main  road.  Arthur  got  off  at  the 
gate,  opened  it,  and  led  Bronco  into  the 
road,  shutting  the  gate  after  him ;  but 
no  sooner  was  his  leg  over  Bronco's 
back,  than  he  was  carried  over  the 
gate  and  up  the  lane  as  fast  as  Bronco 


Bronco.  i  t  3 

could  go.  With  some  trouble  he  led 
Bronco  into  the  road  again,  walked 
with  him  about  fifty  feet  from  the 
gate,  and  then  got  on  once  more ;  but 
Bronco,  being  apparently  determined 
not  to  go  away  from  the  farm,  took 
the  bit  in  his  teeth,  jumped  over  the 
gate,  and  carried  Arthur  home  before 
he  could  stop  him. 

The  gardener  now  came  to  help 
Arthur,  tied  a  handkerchief  across  the 
eyes  of  the  disobedient  horse,  and  led 
him  for  a  mile  along  the  road.  After 
that,  he  behaved  better.  Before  noon 
Arthur  safely  arrived  at  his  uncle's 
house  with  Bronco,  who,  though 
greatly  excited  by  the   strange  sights 


H4         Stories  for  Children. 

and   sounds   of  the  city,  was  perfectly 
manageable. 

For  the  rest  of  the  day,  Bronco  was 
kept  in  the  stable.  The  next  morning 
Arthur  turned  him  loose  in  the  stable- 
yard;  but,  when  he  looked  for  him  at 
noon,  Bronco  was  gone.  Arthur  could 
not  understand  his  disappearance ;  for 
the  gate  was  locked,  and  the  fence  was 
more  than  five  feet  high.  He  took 
the  first  train  that  afternoon,  hurrying 
home  to  consult  his  father.  Think  how 
surprised  he  must  have  been,  when  he 
came  to  the  field  where  the  horses 
were,  to  see  among  them  Bronco.  He 
had  found  his  way  out  of  a  crowded 
city,  in  which  he  had  never  beeri  be- 


Bronco.  1 1 5 

fore,  and  had  jumped  over  six  fences, 
without  touching  them.  This  was  not 
all :  the  keeper  of  the  toll-gate,  spying 
him  on  the  road,  tried  to  stop  him ; 
but  Bronco  went  over  the  gate  like  a 
flash. 

If* I  had  time,  I  could  tell  you  many 
more  stories  about  Bronco :  how  he 
and  Arthur  camped  out  together  ;  how 
he  swam  with  Arthur  in  the  surf  on 
the  ocean  beach ;  how  he  raced  with 
all  the  horses  of  Arthur's  school-mates, 
and  beat  them ;  how,  one  night,  he  car- 
ried Arthur's  uncle  ninety  miles  in 
eleven  hours,  bringing  important  pa- 
pers which  helped  to  win  a  suit  in 
court ;   and  how  he  did  a  great  many 


n6         Stories  for  Children. 

things    that   showed    his  love   for  Ar- 
thur. 

When  Arthur  was  fifteen,  he  went 
away  from  home  to  travel  in  Europe 
with  his  father  and  mother.  In  two 
years  he  returned,  reaching  the  farm  in 
the  spring,  not  a  week  before  Bronco's 
eighth  birthday.  As  he  walked  up  the 
lane  towards  his  home,  he  thought  of 
his  first  meeting  with  Bronco  and  of 
all  the  gay  times  they  had  had  to- 
gether. Suddenly  he  caught  sight  of 
Bronco,  who  was  standing  near  a  high 
picket  fence  that  he  had  jumped  over, 
time  and  again.  Arthur  called  ;  Bronco 
turned,  and,  at  the  sight  of  Arthur, 
gave  a  loud  neigh  of  joy,  and  tried  to 


Bronco.  1 1 7 

go  to  him  ;  but,  in  his  haste,  forgetting 
how  near  he  was  to  the  fence,  he  fell 
heavily  on  the  pickets.  Arthur  rushed 
forward  to  help  him  ;  but,  before  he 
had  gone  half-way,  Bronco  cleared  the 
fence,  and,  running  to  Arthur,  fell  dead 
at  his  feet,  —  a  picket  sticking  deep  in 
his  side. 

The  next  day,  all  the  horses  of  the 
farm  that  had  been  Bronco's  friends 
and  playfellows,  all  the  horses  of  Ar- 
thur's school-mates  that  had  gone  with 
him  on  many  a  hunt,  all  the  horses 
that  had  raced  with  him  and  tried  in 
vain  to  beat  him,  came  to  take  a  last 
look  at  Bronco. 

His  grave  was  under  the  tree  by  the 


u8  Stories  for  Children. 

fence,  where  Arthur  had  first  patted 
him  on  the  back.  There  he  was  buried 
with  his  saddle  and  bridle  and  the  blan- 
ket that  Arthur  had  brought  all  the 
way  from  England  for  him.  He  lay 
upon  a  bed  of  bay  leaves ;  and  bay 
leaves  protected  him  from  the  earth 
above.  If,  at  any  time  that  night,  you 
had  passed  by  the  spot,  you  would 
have  seen,  —  as  Arthur  saw,  when  he 
went  there  next  morning,  as  he  had 
gone,  years  before,  to  meet  his  dear 
Bronco,  —  you  would  have  seen  Bron- 
co's poor  old  mother,  standing  with  her 
head  over  the  iron  railing  that  sur- 
rounded the  grave. 


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WITH    MANY    HUMOROUS    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Price  $1.25. 


Speaking  Likenesses. 


BY 


CHRISTINA  ROSSETTI. 


WITH     PICTURES    THEREOF    BY    ARTHUR    HUGHES. 


BOSTON: 
ROBERTS      BROTHERS. 

1875- 


49  6 


, 


